


Three days of Guinness

by Nival_Vixen



Series: Word of the day [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Based on a Tumblr Post, Brownies, Complete, Leprechauns, M/M, Silly, Stiles-centric, Tricksters, not food brownies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 01:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1571264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's late at night, dark, and Stiles left his phone in his Jeep. These are the only reasons Stiles is considering listening to directions from a leprechaun. The very same leprechaun that bewitched the town's water supply to become Guinness instead of, y'know, water.</p>
<p>(Even if it did get him video evidence of Derek dancing with a mop while in his underwear, Stiles is pretty sure this leprechaun shouldn't be listened to.)</p>
<p>...</p>
<p>Based on the Tumblr word of the day prompt for 'withershins'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three days of Guinness

"You're going withershins, you overgrown potato!"

Stiles frowned over at the leprechaun wondering just how his life had gotten to the point that he was taking directions from a leprechaun. No seriously, it really was a leprechaun. Tiny, tiny man, red hair, swore like a drunk sailor, and although he wasn't wearing the green outfit and pointy boots, he was still definitely a leprechaun. In fact, Stiles was pleased that the tiny creature didn't have pointy boots, because he was sure the thing would've kicked him in the ass with them already.

"What's that about shins?" Stiles asked, frowning.

The leprechaun huffed, folded his arms over his chest and scowled. "You're going the wrong way, numbskull."

"Hey, I'm at least three hundred times taller than you, I think I can see where I'm going better than you can."

"You think that, you great lummox, but you're still going the wrong way. I have a nose for these things," the leprechaun said, tapping his nose firmly.

"I have a nose for these things," Stiles mocked under his breath, pulling a face and turning back in the direction he thought his precious Jeep was.

It was late at night, there was no moon or stars, and he'd accidentally left his phone in the front seat of his car, okay? It's not his fault that he got lost in the dark and managed to (literally) stumble over the very thing he and the others were searching for. The fact that the town's water supply had been changed into a very, very potent Guinness had only been funny for the first day. (Or two, maybe three if Stiles was feeling particularly malicious.) It seemed that alcohol created by a leprechaun with his very own leprechaun-y powers affected werewolves as well as humans. Derek dancing with a mop was the funniest thing Stiles had ever seen in his entire life. In fact, when this creature was dealt with, he was going to spam the video to the entire freaking world because everyone needed to see a video of Derek dancing with a mop in his underwear. He was doing the world a service, really.

Stiles kept walking, the leprechaun following him reluctantly thanks to a leash with gold trimming that Deaton had produced. Exactly  **why**  he had a bunch of leashes that were laced with real gold, Stiles had no idea. In fact, anything that Deaton had, Stiles didn't particularly want to know about, so long as it helped.

Almost ten minutes later, after Stiles tripped over his fourth tree branch of the night, he let out a howl of frustration and turned on the leprechaun.

"I swear, if you're doing that in some way with your leprechaun magic, I'm going to find the closest pond and drown you in it," Stiles threatened.

"Oh, good idea, lad. Best idea you've ever had, probably. I could do with a drink," the leprechaun replied eagerly, looking around. "This way."

"What? No, we ... arghh," Stiles said, hands clenched in annoyance.

Fine, he could absolutely admit when he was lost, and he could definitely accept help from tiny little men that boozed up his town's water supply. No, he couldn't. Not to either - not ever, not now, and ... they were walking that way anyway. Stiles wasn't exactly sure how it happened, but he was following the leprechaun now, and screw it. He was thirsty too.

For actual water, though. (Stiles had found that Guinness made him thirsty and extremely flirty, and he wasn't going to think about what else had happened on the video, about how he'd propositioned Derek to take over for the mop. Nope, not thinking about that at all.) Instead, he would think about clear, cold, and refreshing water. Nothing at all like the river's disgusted polluted water that people had died in. Hell no. Dead-body-free water for him, thank you! Water that you could look at and see the bottom of the river, water that sparkled in the sun instead of a brown muck that kind of gurgled in the sunlight. He wanted water so fucking bad.

"Ah, there 'tis!" the leprechaun exclaimed, right before it unbuckled itself from the leash (which Deaton had promised it wouldn't be able to do - fucking  **hell** , Deaton!) and jumped straight into the river.

Stiles was about to dive in after him and pull the damn creature out, but then the leprechaun started screaming like it was being stabbed with a million needles and set aflame, and Stiles wanted no fucking part of that fresh hell. Whatever was in the river could stay there, and it could keep the fucking leprechaun too, he decided, turning around to leave.

There was a snarl and a blur of darkness, and then Scott was in the river pulling the leprechaun out.

"What the hell, Scott?! What was it? Was there some sort of giant needle-wielding squid in there?" Stiles asked in horror.

"What? No, dude, it's just water. See?" Scott added, shaking his head so droplets flew onto Stiles.

"Really? Then why was the leprechaun screaming?"

"I'M NOT A LEPRECHAUN, YOU GANGLY ARMED GIRAFFE!"

Stiles was still trying to come to terms with the river water being actual water again, and just blinked at the tiny man in confusion. "You're not?"

"He's a brownie. Scottish version of a leprechaun, but apparently like to do things to get their Irish counterparts into trouble," Scott murmured. "Also, not a big fan of water."

"You mean... The Guinness wasn't really Guinness?"

"Uh, no, that was still alcohol. At least a third of the town's in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. A lot of kids, too," Scott said with a sad look. "I'm not even sure how this is water again, really. Deaton said he was going to call you, something about believing in the power of water. I think he said that, at least, he was a bit slurred at the end there. Did he talk to you?"

"No. Left my phone in the Jeep. Um, the ... uh, brownie's escaping," Stiles said, pointing at the man trying to scurry away.

"Oh, right, I've got him. The road's straight down there, dude. Can you find your Jeep from there?" Scott asked, letting the brownie have a head start.

"Yeah, sure," Stiles said.

Since he'd cleaned the water with the power of his mind (that should be his new slogan, if he had a slogan in the first place), Stiles figured it was safe enough to drink, and he gulped down a few handfuls of clear, cold, and refreshing water eagerly.

"Cool. Oh, and Isaac was telling me about a video he took of you and Derek dancing and making out in your underwear?" Scott asked, grinning as Stiles spluttered and choked, before taking off after the surprisingly fast brownie.

Well, shit. He'd forgotten Isaac was in the room. Never mind what he'd said before, Stiles was going to  **delete**  every copy of that video. He was doing the world a service, honestly. Still, maybe when Derek was sober, Stiles would be able to convince him to give an encore performance.

...


End file.
